Most critics are warm towards Gareth Tunley’s debut, if rarely effusive: four positive notices, four mixed and one negative. The praise clusters on Tom Meeten’s brooding, understated lead performance, which several reviews credit with keeping a slippery story grounded, and on Paul Kaye’s late-night monologue, which even the harshest review calls beautifully delivered. The atmosphere draws consistent approval, as does the film’s blurring of investigation, therapy and delusion against London’s streets. Tunley is widely marked as one to watch.
Where they part is the plotting. Sight and Sound and Variety find the convolutions reward a second viewing; The Hollywood Reporter finds the screenplay too slight and cryptic to pay off its promise, and HeyUGuys says the final act frustrates. Empire concedes the austere approach will not suit everyone. The spread is wide, from 85 down to 40, and the lone dissenter is Little White Lies, which calls it a noble failure with contrived plotting and a hollow emotional core.
